


A Charming Romp Through the Annals of History (Or: Why James Lester Regrets Hiring Danny Quinn, a Reprise)

by TheLibranIniquity



Category: Merlin (TV), Primeval
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:30:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLibranIniquity/pseuds/TheLibranIniquity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“When I said I wanted the Anomaly Research Centre to make history, I did not mean literally!”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Charming Romp Through the Annals of History (Or: Why James Lester Regrets Hiring Danny Quinn, a Reprise)

James Lester liked weekends. No; that seemed somewhat of an understatement. He adored weekends, waited for their arrival with barely concealed gleeful anticipation and as soon as the clock ticked down on a Friday afternoon the streets and motorways of London would not see him for dust. 

Weekends were a time to be savoured, each moment coveted as if it would be the last. Weekends were most certainly not for work, and anyone who interrupted him during those two precious days off could only guess at the horrors that would be summarily unleashed upon them.

“Dad, can you come and help me with my homework?”

James smiled and levered himself out of the armchair to follow his son into the dining room.

Weekends were _family_ time. No bureaucrats, civil servants, politicians, dinosaurs – or worse, dinosaur hunters – allowed.

He settled himself down at the table and waited to be told the topic of the homework assignment. 

“I've got to write an essay about what life would have been like for servants in Camelot.”

James raised his eyebrows. He couldn't fathom whether that was history, some form of English assignment or simply creative writing. Perhaps a little of all three. Regardless, he nodded, and allowed his son to set the research they were going to do. This consisted largely of reading a single book, two at the very most, and fudging some of the details as necessary – James had no objection to this, as even despite his own... unusual work remit, he could see no real life application for any knowledge of Arthurian legend.

In retrospect, that was probably when he should have suspected something was afoot.

o o o o o

_27th June  
Interaction with the anomaly in Midhurst was limited to non-invasive experiments by C. Temple and S. Page, with D. Quinn and A. Maitland also present. Anomaly was concluded to be in regular remitting cycle to no discernible time period, and not worthy of further study._

_Recommendation – immediate area to be cordoned off and low level patrol established, in keeping with site at Forest of Dean._

_Authorising officer: Becker, Captain H._

o o o o o

The spine of the book read _An Illustrated Guide to Arthurian Characters_ and was clearly aimed at Tobias' age group; information displayed relatively simply without being patronising. It was also interesting enough that James found himself stopping at more pages than Tobias had asked him to bookmark, reading descriptions of legendary people he had been familiar with in his own childhood. In this particular book Guinevere was depicted as the daughter of Camelot's blacksmith and James skimmed some of the simplified justifications for this before moving onto Lancelot and Gawain and the other fabled knights of the realm.

That was when he found it. A small entry, grouped in with the less prominent knights. James frowned at the description. There was something almost – familiar about the knight in question, but he could almost shake it off as work-related paranoia until he saw the entry after that, and the one three pages later. And the two on the page opposite that one.

James blinked several times before going back and rereading the short passages. Then he did the same again, just in case his eyes were deceiving him or he was having some sort of mental arrhythmia.

Something – anything – that could explain why -

“- you have all been described, in unnerving detail, by someone who's been dead for more than a thousand years.”

At least Quinn's team had the grace to look collectively shocked before confusion set in. Quinn himself was the first to speak.

“Er... Guv?”

James sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Or have the team in front of him drawn and quartered. He tossed his son's history book onto the desk within easy reach of Quinn. “The first bookmarked page,” he directed, once Quinn had picked the book up and summarily stared first in confusion and then with something altogether more damning written all over his face.

Quinn, remarkably, did as he was told. He frowned, then started reading aloud. “In some versions of the legend, Daniel is depicted as a wandering knight, searching for a worthy cause to fight for. He is commonly described as having a narrow intellect and a giant-like stature, with broad shoulders and flaming – golden -” He broke off, just in time for sniggers from the rest of the team, “- hair.”

Lester crossed his arms and waited expectantly. “This had better be good,” he warned. 

Quinn's face fell. “Look,” he began, cutting off Temple and Becker's protests with a single hand. “It's not what it looks like. Really.”

James shot him a look that would have withered most Whitehall researchers. Sadly, Quinn seemed immune. “Pray tell, then, what does this look like?” He addressed the entire team this time, staring down each of them in turn.

Temple, predictably, was the first to break. “It wasn't my fault – honest!”

o o o o o

“This is all your fault, Connor.”

“My fault?” Connor squeaked. “How'd you work that one out?”

Abby shot him a dirty look. “You just had to know what was on the other side of the anomaly, didn't you?”

“Science!” Connor protested. “How're we ever going to learn what the anomalies are all about if we don't go through them every once in a while?”

“And now it's closed behind us.”

Connor scowled at her. “It'll show up again in a few hours.” Abby glared at him. “I think,” he amended, a bit more uncertainly this time.

“Well.” Sarah looked between them like she wanted to bang their heads together. “At least we're all here together, so that's something, right?”

Behind her, Becker and Danny did not look convinced. Behind them the English countryside stretched out, with no signs of civilisation or any life whatsoever to be seen.

o o o o o

“Your report, Captain.” Lester turned on the soldier – the sole voice of reason on the field team, or at least that was what the job description had demanded of him, if he remembered correctly (and he should – he was the one who had written it, after all).

Becker shifted stance. “Sir?”

“It stated there was absolutely nothing remarkable whatsoever about this particular anomaly.”

Becker lifted his chin ever so slightly. “It did, sir.”

James mentally sighed. It was like talking to a brick wall with this one. “Were you lying in your official report, Captain?”

Becker blinked. “Yes, sir.”

“Wonderful – why do I even bother with rules and procedures when nobody around here actually pays them any attention?”

Becker had no response to that one – not surprising, really, since the question had 'rhetorical' written all over it and aside from that one unfortunate attempt at a joke on his first day, James had never known Becker to say anything without being spoken to first. Mostly it made for a beautifully refreshing change. Now, however, he just wanted to smack something until he got some answers.

“Look, Lester.” To James' surprise, it was Sarah Page who had spoken up. Should he really have been surprised by that? “It's not Becker's fault.” On cue, everyone else stared at her, some collective thought racing through their minds but not one James was sure he ever wanted to know.

“We didn't even know where the anomaly led to, not straight away.”

o o o o o

“That's Camelot.”

Everyone turned to stare at Sarah.

“How can you tell?” Connor eventually asked.

Sarah pointed at the roads and the barely visible heraldry flags marking the stone walls and wooden gates at the other end of the valley from where the team were, the former anomaly site right behind them in relation to everything else. “Isn't it obvious?”

“No, not really,” Connor said. He'd always been more of a dinosaur person, never any of this messy human history stuff for him.

Sarah sighed. “Just trust me on this one, okay? That is Camelot. We're half a mile -”

“Three-quarters,” Becker interrupted. He was staring out towards the gates, and never took his gaze off them.

“- three-quarters of a mile,” Sarah continued, shooting Becker a dirty look, “from the city of Camelot.” She beamed. “This is brilliant!”

o o o o o

“So once you ascertained your location and how dangerously close all of you were to rewriting history, you stayed hidden away, waited for the anomaly to reappear and return to the present day.”

Sometimes James hated the streak of optimism in him.

He blinked a few times in lieu of screwing his face up. “But that wouldn't explain my son's history book, now, would it?” He sighed. “Explanation. Now.”

The team all looked at each other, clearly deciding amongst themselves who would respond first.

“It's a bit complicated.” Oh joy of unending joys; it was Quinn. James idly wondered if it would be appropriate to bang his head on the desk, and then braced himself.

o o o o o

“Help! Help!”

A woman's scream rang out across the valley. Everyone jumped at the sound. Becker went straight for his shotgun while Danny rued the fact he'd left his handgun in the Hilux.

“It's coming from over there.” Becker pointed through the trees, away from both the anomaly site and Camelot's gates.

That was all the cue Danny needed; he charged ahead of Becker, trying not to make any noise as he slipped through the undergrowth. It took him less than thirty seconds to reach the origin of the scream.

Two men who looked like they'd just stepped off the set of _Braveheart_ were standing over a young woman, her face hidden by a fancy hooded robe. One of the men had a knife to the woman's throat while the other held her down. They both looked up at Danny and then off behind him. That either meant that Becker was right behind Danny, or the bad guys' back up had just arrived and Danny was a dead man.

He didn't get a chance to find out which it was. Taking advantage of the distraction, the woman swept a leg out from underneath her robes and kneed the knife-wielding man hard before jabbing both elbows backwards and catching her other assailant in the chest. Danny took his cue and jumped in, punching first the knife-wielding man and then his partner in crime, and grinned as they both fell to the ground, now very much unconscious.

And ever the gentleman he held out a hand to help the woman back onto her feet. “Are you all right, miss?”

She stared at him for a moment before replying. The words were rapid and garbled and as pretty as the woman was Danny was getting a headache trying to keep up with the... whatever it was. He held his hands up. “Come again?”

She pulled a face now and kept talking – but it was slower this time. Maybe she thought Danny was stupid. He could deal with that, especially as he could just about mentally translate at the slower pace. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time A-level Latin had ever come in handy.

“...some giant coming along, playing hero, I -”

“- was in a bit of trouble and I tried to help. Sorry, I'll leave you to be robbed and killed next time, shall I?”

The woman frowned again. Annoyed – she was definitely annoyed. “That's not what I – oh, so you've decided to talk properly now?”

Danny shrugged and flashed the most disarming grin he was capable of.

The woman huffed. “Well, thank you, I suppose. I'll be on my way now.” She cast a disdainful look at the goons on the ground and gathered her robes a little tighter around her.

“That's it?” Danny asked. He was faintly aware now that the entire team were behind him, but keeping their distance.

“What were you expecting? My undying gratitude? A promise of marriage and children?”

“I...” Generally women – especially the beautiful ones – weren't that direct with Danny. It was a bit unsettling, actually. “No?”

The beginnings of a smile appeared on the woman's face. Now he was getting somewhere. “What's your name?” he asked.

He got an analytical look before she replied: “Morgana. And you are...?”

o o o o o

Beating his head against a brick wall seemed a very attractive option at the moment. At least James wasn't the only one contemplating that particular course of action – between Temple and Maitland there seemed to be more than enough reaction to Quinn's version of events. Page just looked amused while Becker... well, Becker wasn't paid to have emotions.

“Would you believe us if we said that the only way we made it into the history book was because Morgana related her attack to someone, who talked to someone else, who talked to someone who could actually read and write and hey presto, permanent record for all of history?”

James turned on Temple with the deadliest glare in his repertoire, the one he typically reserved for the likes of Christine Johnson and her little gang of civil servants. Unsurprisingly, Temple wilted immediately. “But that's... not... what... happened,” he said weakly.

James sighed. Again. Well, it was either that or raise his voice, and hadn't his wife always told him he sounded like a teenaged girl when he raised his voice? He rather suspected she'd been exaggerating, but he'd also never wanted to test it, just in case she was actually right. “I can see that, Mister Temple,” he said. “In fact, my son's history book, which was first published more than ten years ago, can see that. When I said I wanted the Anomaly Research Centre to make history, I did not mean literally!” Page snorted, quickly hiding it behind both a hand and a cough. James ignored her, and carried on, again making sure to glare at each of Quinn's team members equally.

Apparently Quinn felt like being quite the sacrificial lamb today. “The short version, Guv, is that the anomaly didn't reappear for another twenty-two hours, so rather than while the time away in the woods where all manner of independent scumbag roamed free, we decided to do a little hands on research.” He attempted a grin. “That's what the 'R' in ARC stands for, after all!”

“Captain Becker, shoot this man – right now.” Beat. “Kidding.” Beat. “For now.”

o o o o o

“So what are you all doing so far from home?”

Morgana's curiosity appeared to have won out over her annoyance at Danny's assistance, and she'd deigned to sit with them while Becker went off and did his Boy Scout thing with compasses and other things that Morgana wasn't supposed to know existed. Sarah had gone with him, for reasons unknown to anyone.

Danny glanced at Connor and Abby and quickly translated Morgana's question for them.

“So what do we tell her?” Abby wondered.

Connor shrugged. “We're just passing through?”

Danny nodded, and relayed the response to Morgana. He wasn't sure how well the three of them would stand up to more detailed questions – Sarah was the one who seemed to know more about Arthurian lore than the rest of them, and Danny wasn't ashamed to admit (to himself) that he'd only taken Latin in the first place because he'd fancied the pants off the teacher.

True to form – or whatever that was for someone he'd known for less than half an hour – Morgana didn't seem convinced by the answer, but she nodded anyway.

“Home must be really far away for only one of you to be able to speak properly.”

“Hey!” Danny was all ready to defend the admittedly superior intelligence of the kids beside him when he noticed the smirk playing out on Morgana's face again. “Oh. Nice.”

“You're right. I probably should stop insulting my rescuer.” She didn't look the least bit repentant, though, and Danny had to give her props for that, at least. “I really should return to Camelot though – and if it makes you feel any better, Daniel, I won't forget what you did today.” She smiled again; this time it seemed a bit more genuine.

Danny ignored Connor and Abby's smirks. He wondered briefly what they were overwriting the Latin with, then just as quickly decided he didn't want to know. “Any time,” he murmured.

o o o o o

“If I'd wanted the beginnings of a Mills and Boon romance, Quinn, I'd ask my assistant for a recommendation. Since that's never going to happen this side of an extinction event, perhaps we could get back to the matter at hand, hmm?”

James picked up the history book again and thumbed through the pages until he reached the second bookmark. Rather than toss it back down on the desk, he chose to read aloud. “Of all the scholars to pass through the gates of Camelot, the Saracen known as Sara was one of the most widely read, and eager to share knowledge with the scribes and record keepers of the King's court.”

James wondered if it was too late to take that other desk job the Home Secretary kept hinting at. The one in New Zealand, far, far away from... this.

Because, to his utter horror, Page was beaming.

o o o o o

“Oh, come on... please?”

“I really don't think -”

Sarah drew in a deep breath and pasted the most winning smile she was capable of on her face. This was the smile that had got her through the MSc years, stopped her from murdering her flatmate in the run up to the PhD viva, and scored her places on digs other people had to resort to grievous bodily harm to be included on.

“Please?” she repeated. “I promise I won't damage anything or peek through anything confidential or anything like that.”

Camelot's record-keeper eyed her – and her unconventional dress shirt and jeans – warily. “You promise to be on your best behaviour – as befits a visitor to the citadel?”

Sarah barely refrained from jumping and squealing like a kid. “Yes, I promise.”

“Then... I suppose, in the interests of international co-operation...”

Sarah was already giddy at the sight of all those _books_ just waiting to be examined, and read, and touched and... _why_ had she been an utter idiot and left her notebook and digital camera in the satchel in the bloody Hilux?

Before she could run around the archive like it was Santa's grotto, though, she reached over and kissed the librarian soundly on the cheek.

“Thank you! You won't regret this, I promise.”

o o o o o

“You're kidding me – that's how you got into the King's archives?”

“Bit rich coming from Morgana's biggest fan!”

“She was the one who mentioned marriage, not me!”

James watched Page and Quinn prepare for full-on verbal onslaught and decided that in the greater scheme of things, he really didn't like the idea of a screaming match taking place in his office.

“Enough!” And as it turned out, that one word was enough. Both of the supposed adults in front of him stopped glaring at each other and instead turned to face James, now much more closely resembling chastised schoolchildren.

“Was it worth it?” Quinn asked, shooting Page a side-long glance.

To Page's sudden and uncharacteristic credit, she directed her answer to James. “The chief record-keeper of King Uther's court was Geoffrey of Monmouth.”

“Who?” Quinn asked.

“Oh, for -” Page pulled a face. “Geoffrey. Of _Monmouth_. How can you not know who he is?”

“Do I look like a walking pub quiz machine?”

“You speak Latin!”

“I wanted to shag the teacher!”

Oh – now that was just uncalled for, and James could only assume that his abject horror at the full implications of Quinn's last statement was written all over his face because once again there was abrupt silence in the room. He only felt a little vindicated when he saw the queasy looks on everybody else's faces as well.

“I suppose I should be grateful you all made it back to the anomaly – and the present day – in one piece,” James remarked, pleased by the subdued looks on the faces of everyone in front of him. He picked up the history book again. “I think I can fill in the rest of the gaps from here.” 

“But -” Temple began, only to be cut off yet again.

“No – no! I don't care any more. Out, all of you!” James waited until the last infuriating member of Danny Quinn's infuriating team sauntered out of his office, then leaned heavily on the back of his chair. When he felt he'd regained sufficient composure he reached for the intercom.

“Lorraine, if you would be so kind as to crack into the reserves and find me something highly potent to drink, and you'll need to start monitoring the publication of history textbooks for the foreseeable future. Oh – and find out when Professor Cutter's back from that damned sabbatical of his. As soon as possible on all counts, please.”

He glanced to his left and out into the main atrium only to catch sight of Quinn waving his arms around like a demented acrobat. He never thought he'd see the day he would miss having a grumpy Scottish academic running around underfoot, much less admit to it, but something about Quinn just...

He reached for the intercom again.

“Forget everything else for the moment, Lorraine, just get me that drink.”

o o o o o

Twenty-two hours after first dumping the team in pre-Norman England, the anomaly reappeared and began spitting people back through one by one. Eventually they began comparing stories from the point they'd split up in the marketplace of Camelot's lower city. Sarah's adventures in Camelot's archive came up, as did Danny's misadventures with the King's ward, Abby's time in the royal stables, and even the mystery of just how close Connor had come to being thrown in the stocks with the court physician's apprentice.

Becker was the last to come through the anomaly, covered in mud, bruises and sporting several holes and tears in his uniform. The murderous look on his face was more than enough to warn the others off asking him what had happened. But fortunately they all quickly agreed to one thing.

What happened in Camelot, was to stay in Camelot.


End file.
